The Forever Canadian Vacation

"After no food, insides need learn how eat again. More tomorrow."

Also after two days, he felt the urge to relieve himself but didn't exactly know how to tell Kishkadee. Rather than try, he got out of bed and started slowly for the door. She stopped him before he got half way.

"Not go outside yet. I have way."

She reached under the bed and retrieved a porcelain chamber pot with a lid. She handed it to Dave and grinned again.

"Kishkadee use when too bad go little house outside. You use now. I not look."

With that, she went back to the fire where she was cooking something in a cast iron pot. Dave unzipped as quietly as he could and stood over the pot. It was embarrassing to know she'd hear him, but there was no holding back. The relief he felt afterwards compensated somewhat.

Kishkadee waited several minutes after he finished, then picked up the pot and went out the door. A minute later, she came back in and put the chamber pot back under the bed, then turned to Dave.

"When you need go, use pot. I empty after you done."

That afternoon as the sun dropped below the treeline, the cabin started to get dark. Kishkadee took three small bowls from the shelf by the table and lit the wicks of the candles they contained, then asked Dave if he was hungry. Dave grinned.

"I could eat a skunk right now."

Kishkadee laughed.

"Skunk smell and taste bad. Today I kill bird called mashkodese in Anishinabe. Mother say Father say spruce hen. She say Father like mashkodese. I think you like better than skunk."

Dave made his way to the table with Kishkadee helping him though he really didn't need her help. Once he sat down, she brought him a plate with a small bird roasted to a golden brown and about the size of the cornish game hens Julie had loved fixing. Beside the bird was a small heap of what had to be wild rice. Julie had fixed wild rice sometimes and this looked the same.

Kishkadee sat down beside him and smiled.

"Eat."

Dave looked up from his plate.

"Aren't you going to eat too?"

"Woman eat after man. It is Anishinabe way."

Dave was embarrassed to sit there with her watching him.

"I can't sit here and eat by myself while you watch me. Why don't you eat with me? I'd like it if you did."

Kishkadee frowned.

"White women eat at same time as men?"

"Yes. We like women to eat with us."

She grinned.

"Kishkadee part white. White part want eat with you."

Kishkadee got up and went back to the fireplace, then returned with a plate with another grouse and rice. She sat down and grinned.

"Now, we eat like white people."

Dave's first thought was that Kishkadee had marinated the grouse in gin, but then he realized she would have no way to get gin. The piney taste was there though. He'd had chicken with juniper berries once when he and Julie had splurged and gone to a fancy restaurant. He'd liked the piney aftertaste then, but after the first bite, he decided Kishkadee's spruce grouse was better than that restaurant chicken. The rice was good too. Kishkadee had seasoned it with some of the juices from the roasting grouse. It wasn't butter and salt like Julie used, but it tasted great.

Dave was shoveling in a forkful of rice when he heard Kishkadee chuckle. He looked up to see that same smile.

"Better than skunk?" she asked.

Dave grinned.

"You're a good cook, Kishkadee. This is great."

"I happy you like. Maybe you like other food I fix. We see."

After they finished eating, Kishkadee washed the plates and forks and put them on the shelf beside the table, and then said it was time for them to sleep. Dave didn't need reminding. After eating the first real meal he'd had in he didn't remember how long, he was starting to nod off.

Dave stood up and walked back to the bed, pulled back the blankets, and rolled in. He watched Kishkadee bank the fire for the night, and was almost asleep when he heard her moving around near the bed. He opened his eyes and saw her pull the dress over her head and hang it from a peg on the wall, then blow out the candle that sat in on a small shelf on the same wall. The bed shook a little when she climbed in, and Dave felt the movement of the blankets when she pulled them up to her chin.

He supposed she'd done this every night and he was just too exhausted to wake up. That was all well and good, but now...

"Kishkadee, why are you in bed with me?"

"Only one bed. Too cold sleep on floor."

"But you're naked."

"Always sleep with no clothes. Sleep good that way."

"But I'm a man and you're a woman."

Kishkadee giggled.

"You still sick if not already know Kishkadee woman."

"But a man and a woman in bed together...if they're not married that's just asking for trouble."

Kishkadee patted Dave on the arm.

"Kishkadee not do anything to you. Go sleep now."

As Dave lay there and listened to Kishkadee breathe he reflected he wasn't concerned that she would do anything to him. His concern was that she already had done something to him, something he didn't think could happen again.

He and Julie had had a very satisfying sex life. After the "once a night and twice on Saturday and Sunday" frenzy most newlyweds experience, they'd settled down to about four times a week. Those times were times for both of them loving each other with both their minds and their bodies. Julie readily accepted his touch and returned that touch with her own. Foreplay was a favorite thing with them -- passionate kisses exchanged while fingers stroked each into the height of arousal.

At first, Julie would then lay back, open her thighs and beckon to Dave with a breathy "I want you now", but after they'd been married for a year, she changed. Instead of beckoning him while she lay on her back, she'd drape her thigh over him and then guide his cock to her entrance while they lay on their sides. When that became their normal position, he'd asked her why she liked it. Julie had kissed him and then said it let her have more control than being on her back and she could make the experience better for them both.

Dave had realized that was true. On her back, Julie couldn't do much more than rock her hips into his thrusts. When they lay on their sides, she could control how deep his cock sank into her depths and she could dictate his speed. She could also use her hands to stroke his back, and once she learned he liked the touch, would lift her thigh high enough she could squeeze his ass cheeks. Everything she did in that position was an act of pure love and exquisite pleasure, the culmination an experience in becoming lost in each other as the waves of pleasure swept them away from everything except the throbbing of their bodies as they climaxed.

Dave didn't think any woman other than Julie could cause the arousal he'd always felt when seeing her naked, but Kishkadee had. Though the light from the single candle wasn't very bright, Dave hadn't missed her full breasts with small, dark, taut nipples, the narrow waist that widened into sensuous hips, or the small patch of black hair that covered her sex.

That sight had stirred his mind and his mind began stiffening his cock. By the time Kishkadee had climbed into bed, Dave's erection was full and rigid, and part of his mind said it was wrong to feel that way. Another part was telling him it needed to feel his cock stroking in and out of her and to feel the shattering orgasm that would follow for both of them. Dave struggled with those conflicting thoughts until he finally fell asleep.

After another month, or at least what Dave thought was probably a month, he was almost back to his old self. Kishkadee made sure he ate until he was full after that first couple of weeks. Dave knew he was gaining weight. After the lake had frozen over, Dave had to cinch his belt in by another hole, and by the time he'd decided to die, two holes. Now, he was back to one hole tighter than normal, and after he ate, even that felt a little snug.

Half the time, Dave had no idea what he was eating, but Kishkadee would always tell him if he asked. It might be rabbit, spruce grouse, beaver, or deer. She might serve it with more wild rice or what Kishkadee said were cattail roots. What Dave did know was that the food, while unfamiliar, was good.

There wasn't much difference in any of the meals, be they breakfast, lunch, or dinner. Sometimes, if Kishkadee had made a stew, it would be the same for all three meals. About once a week, she made some type of flat bread using either ground, dried cattail roots or ground wild rice. Once Dave had tasted and complimented her on one of these flat breads she'd flavored with maple syrup, she started making it about once a week

It was a little after that when Kishkadee said they needed meat and that Dave should go along. Dave was excited. Except for a quick trip a couple times a day to what Kishkadee called the "little house outside", he'd been cooped up in the cabin for weeks. He didn't know how he'd be able to stay outside, though, because he'd nearly frozen to death in the clothes he had before and it was just fall then. When he asked Kishkadee about that, she grinned.

"You almost same size as Father. You wear Father clothes, not get cold."

Kishkadee opened the trunk beside the bed and pulled out a pair of heavy canvas pants and a long, fur coat. She held it up to Dave and smiled.

"Pants keep legs warm. Coat from bear keep rest warm."

After he'd put on the pants over his jeans, Kishkadee held the coat open while Dave slipped in one arm and then another, and then closed it over his chest. The "buttons" were actually little wood toggles on one side that fit into leather loops on the other side of the coat but they kept it closed. The almost black hair that covered the entire coat was long and glossy, and Dave felt like a mountain man he'd seen once in a movie.

Kishkadee then took a fur hat from the trunk and put it on Dave's head, put on a similar coat and hat from pegs on the wall beside the door, then grinned again.

"Now we ready."

It was the first of several trips Dave and Kishkadee made over that winter. Dave was already amazed at how simple Kishkadee's life was, and wondered how she was going to kill a deer. When she said they needed to hunt, Dave had looked for a rifle or shotgun, but saw none. What she showed him was both simple and effective.

Kishkadee led the way through the snow between the trees until she crossed another trail through the snow. Kishkadee pointed at some small tracks in the snow that went between two tall maple trees.

"Deer go here to river. River not freeze like lake. We catch deer when go to river to drink."

Dave watched as Kishkadee tied one end of the rope she'd brought into a slip knot and then threaded the other through the knot to form a loop. She used small vines to support the loop about three feet from the ground and between the two trees. She then tied the free end of the rope to one of the tree trunks. She stood back to look at her work, then turned to Dave and grinned.

"Deer come drink in morning and put head in rope, then try run away. Deer pull hard and choke."

She stuck out her tongue and made a choking sound.

"We come back tomorrow to see."

It took two days, not one, but on the second day they checked the snare, a doe deer lay still on the ground. Kishkadee approached the deer slowly and from the back, then used a stick to poke it in the eye. The deer didn't move, so Kishkadee untied the rope from the tree and then removed it from the deer's neck.

Dave figured they'd drag the deer back to Kishkadee's cabin. Instead, Kishkadee sank to her knees and began singing in what he assumed was the Anishinabe language. When she stood up, he asked her what she'd been doing.

Kishkadees face was serious.

"Deer die so we have food. I pray to thank her."

An hour later, Dave was helping Kishkadee drag the gutted deer back to her cabin. That night, as Dave ate fresh deer liver grilled over the fire and cattail flatbread, he thought Kishkadee's hunting method would be considered cruel by most people back home.

It was cruel in some ways, but no more cruel than life in the wilderness was for any animal or person. That Kishkadee had thanked the deer made him realize that while the way Kishkadee had killed the deer was cruel, she had done so with a reverence for the deer's life. He knew people who had little reverence for the lives of other people, let alone reverence for an animal they were going to eat.

The winter passed slowly for Dave, though as the days passed, he began to enjoy living like Kishkadee lived. It was a quiet, simple life with no worries about what anyone else thought or concerns about things they didn't have. By the time the first days of spring began melting the snow that covered the pine trees outside, Dave realized he was happy in spite of his situation.

Kishkadee was an intelligent as well as pretty woman. As they talked each day, her English began to improve though Dave hadn't tried to help her with that. She was just listening to him and then changing her manner of speaking to be more like his. Occasionally, she'd ask him about how he said something or about the meaning of a word she didn't know. She'd repeat it, then smile and say "is this right?"

It was more than just having someone to talk with. It was the way she seemed concerned about his every need and wish. He couldn't bring himself to actually admit it, but in the back of his mind was the memory of how Julie had been the same way.

Once Kishkadee discovered the foods he liked best, she would fix them at least once every six or seven days even if it meant braving the cold and snow to find spruce grouse or to snare a few rabbits.

Dave had brought only a pair of deck shoes and one pair of hiking boots for the trip, and neither of which was very warm if he spent much time outside. After that first hunting trip, Kishkadee tanned the skin from the deer they'd caught and then sat by the fire in the afternoons for several days working on something. She wouldn't tell him what it was, but one afternoon before they went out to snare rabbits, she handed him a pair of calf-length moccasins lined with rabbit fur.

"These keep feet warm. I make like Mother make for Father."

Not the least of his pleasures was watching Kishkadee just move around the little cabin. The gentle movement of her breasts under her leather dress and the sway of her hips spoke to Dave of sensuality and desire. In the dark eyes that flashed at him when she laughed were the sparks of what he imagined would be an erotic fire within the woman.

At first, he made these observations just as he had observed other women when with Julie, just an observation without any thoughts of pursuing an attempt at verification. As time progressed though, Dave began to wonder if Kishkadee was really those things or if it was just his imagination. Of course, he didn't try to find out. Kishkadee had made no indication she wanted any attention like that. Dave explained her lack of modesty when she undressed every night and climbed into bed beside him as the result of living by herself for so long without a mother to tell her otherwise.

The day the ice on the lake started to break up turned Dave's thoughts once again to getting back to civilization and then home. Those thoughts intensified one sunny and relatively warm afternoon when he and Kishkadee went back to his old campsite to retrieve his fishing equipment.

The plane was still there, about twenty feet from the shore and trapped in the ice. The tarpaulin had collapsed under the weight of the winter snows, but once they pulled it to the side, Dave's rod case and tackle box were still there and undamaged. Dave picked them and his hatchet up and they started back to the cabin. They were under the trees when they heard the drone of a small aircraft overhead. Dave turned to run back to the campsite in hope the plane might see him and ran into Kishkadee as she stood behind him. She reached for him as she stumbled backwards, and Dave caught her. They ended up standing there, her arms around his neck and his around her waist.

For a few seconds, neither said anything. Dave then let his arms drop as he apologized.

"I'm sorry, Kishkadee. I just wanted to see if I could get that plane to see me. If they did, they might come back."

Kishkadee smiled, but the sparkle in her eyes was gone.

"If they come back, you will leave?"

"Well, yes. I have to get back to my job and everything."

"They will come back after the ice is all gone. I dreamed it."

With that, Kishkadee turned and started walking away. Dave picked up his rod case, tacklebox and hatchet and followed her. He wished Kishkadee really had dreamed it and that the dream would come true, but in his logical mind he figured the plane was just some pilot flying from one place to another and not really looking for anything on the ground.

For the next week, the weather warmed up above freezing during the day and melted most of the remaining snow. The lake ice was showing signs of melting, and Dave had hopes of starting out for someplace with a phone or radio so he could get back home. Then, Canada played a cruel trick and plunged them back down to freezing temperatures day and night. Kishkadee assured Dave it was only a temporary change, but a heavy snowfall on the second night of the freezing weather dampened his spirits.

During the next three weeks, Dave spent some time outside fishing what open water there was, and Kishkadee grinned when he brought her the first two northerns he caught.

"Now we have fish to eat. I fix like Mother fix for Father."

After that, they had fish made into a stew or roasted over the fire at least once a week. It wasn't fish fillets breaded in cornmeal and fried like at the fishing camp, but it was still good.

At last the sun beamed its warmth down and melted the remaining snow and the lake ice began turning black. The dark color increased the speed at which the ice melted and soon the lake rippled with the breeze and Dave saw minnows flitting in the shallows. A week later, the frogs woke up from their winter sleep and he heard them croaking as he lay in bed beside Kishkadee.

He went with her the day she showed him how to tap the maple trees to collect the spring flow of sap, and then showed him how she boiled that sap down into thick, sweet syrup. When the first green plants appeared, Kishkadee showed him how to identify the edible plants and those she used for medicine. Their diet began to include some of these edible plants, and to Dave, they were better than any salad he'd ever had.

It was on one warm afternoon when Dave was fishing he heard another small plane. He couldn't see it, but it seemed to be in the area of his old camp and it stayed there for several minutes. The sound would get higher in pitch, then lower, and then higher again. That could only mean the plane was circling the area. Dave began running in the direction of his old camp, but halfway there, the sound of the engine got lower and then lower still. Dave turned around and walked back to the cabin hoping the plane had been looking for him.

When he told Kishkadee about the plane, she smiled.

"Maybe they come back some day. I happy you stay with Kishkadee until then."

Kishkadee walked away then to begin making their evening meal, and she didn't say anything more to Dave about him staying with her. That night, after he'd watched her undress, then blow out the candle and climb into bed with him, he thought about what he'd do if the plane did come back.

He'd leave, of course. He had to get back home so his family knew he was all right, and he had to see if his job was still there. Chances were it wasn't, but maybe his company had something else he could do. If not, he'd look for another job. It might take a few months, but he had enough money in savings to tide him over.